


Faux Pas

by BellJarred



Category: Kuragehime | Princess Jellyfish
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellJarred/pseuds/BellJarred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember that awkward weeaboo stage you had when you were twelve? Some people get over it as the sheer shame of calling everything “kawaii desu” is enough to scare anyone straight, and others? Well, others get a really big reality check when they finally reach Japan. You were not fortunate enough to be the former.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Japanophile

**Author's Note:**

> Romanized Japanese words will be bolded for the sake of being cringe-worthy.

  
  


Your [e/c] eyes drank in the vintage architecture of the corner building. Anyone else would have recognized it immediately as an outdated dump what with its anxiety-inducing yellow walls and diarrhea green trim. Even the decorative shrubbery betwixt the exterior of the building and the short gate that surrounded it was beginning to get out of hand, almost as if the residents were perhaps too lazy or too photophobic to bother stepping outside with a pair of hedge-clippers every once in a while. All in all, the entire complex was a few structural violations short of screaming “Slap a ‘Condemned!’ notice on me and make me a strip mall.” It was simply a fortunate occurrence indeed that you were far from being like “anyone else.”  
  


Indeed, when your eyes roamed the perimeter you surely saw Amamizukan for what it was: a palace. The walls sparkled with a golden sheen and the roof radiated with a rich jade of mainland nobility. If the rich historical style and the visual splendor of the building did not immediately render it a forgotten treasure, than perhaps the existence of one particular resident made it so. Your gaze drifted from window to window as your mind wandered with the exciting possibilities. Which one belonged to  _her_? Yes, this was the home of your idol, the magnificent mangaka, Mejiro Juon.  
  


You placed a gentle hand to your vociferously beating heart as you approached the front door, tugging along a mint-colored, wheeled suitcase adorned in what you had designated to be “so  **kawaii** ” accessories such as pink ribbons, hot-glued rhinestones, key-chain plushies, and fandom patches. You were filled to the brim with conflicting emotions of excitement and apprehension. This was it! You had made it to Japan! You were about to meet your idol and roommates…only, what if they didn’t like you? What if your butchered pronunciations incited laughter in them all? No! You took a deep breath before plummeting your knuckles into the hardwood surface of the front door and rapping out a defiant tune. Years of subtitle preference Animes and that one shitty, beginning language class you had taken in community college had flawlessly prepared you for this moment!  
  


“ **K-Konichiwa, mina-san**! Your new roommate, [Last Name] [First Name]- **chan**  is  _here_ ~!” 


	2. Hot Pot

 

It was eons before someone finally answered the door and you had begun to think that no one was home. When at last someone emerged from behind the safety of the front door covered in peeling green paint, you were surprised to find a short, rather plump woman in traditional style dress. You admired her plain, plum colored kimono wordlessly before glancing down at your own attire fretfully: a cat-eared beanie, brightly colored fandom shirt, jeans, and beat up [f/c] converse. You had bought a used kimono once from a thrift store chain in hopes of incorporating it into a cosplay, but perhaps you could have put it to better use by wearing it here?

“Hello!” You chirped, bowing low to the anonymous women. “Your kimono is so stylish!” At this complimentary statement the women appeared to turn to stone before your very eyes. At first you wondered if your rush of English had confused her, but once she spoke up again you realized at once that this was not the case and that she seemed to have some level of foreign language under her belt. Regardless, you decided that you needed to work on relying less on your native tongue now that you were an ocean away from your country.

“ _Stylish_ …?” She seemed to whisper breathlessly although her facial features remained gray and motionless.

You paled at her melodramatic display. Had you said something wrong or was she simply flabbergasted at having received a compliment from a stranger? Feeling somewhat guilty for sending the thirty-something year-old woman into unnecessary shock, you endeavored to distract her with a bit of a topic change. “The fabric is so rich in color —  _so_  ‘ **kawaii** ’ — where did you get it?” You inquired in broken, difficultly pronounced Japanese.

Your words seemed to work magic as the women immediately sparked to life once more. “Oh! You think so?” She gushed before delving into a hurried string of conversational Japanese too complicated for you to interpret that quickly. You could only assume that she was explaining to you the origin of her apparel, and so you did not feel too poorly about the language barrier as a result of such.

“Ah, a-anyway,” you began, cheeks tinting in embarrassment at having to interrupt the women in English no less. “I am your new tenant, [Full Name]-chan. C-Could you be Mejiro-sama?” You questioned hopefully, switching back to a shitty combination of English and Japanese.

The women did not seem bothered by the interruption and indeed perked up at the mention of the name. “Mejiro-sama? She doesn’t like to leave her room. I’m Chieko, the manager of this building.”

You easily picked out the “no”, “manager”, and “Chieko.” That was enough for you and so you nodded in understanding and appreciation. “Please take good care of me, Ms. Manager!”

Chieko spared you a curt, formal smile before stepping aside to allow you access into the building. “It is an honor to be accepted by Mejiro-sama as an apprentice, and a privilege to live in Amamizukan where we are safe from outside stressors and the opposite sex. Please remember that as you sit down with us and take part in our coveted hot pot, [Last Name]-san.”

“Hot pot?” You echoed as your brow furrowed in concentration. “Is that like fondue? CAN I EAT THAT WITH MY CHOPSTICKS?!” You screeched excitedly.

As Chieko twisted a finger in her poor, ringing ear, she wondered despairingly what she had gotten herself into. “Of course. Please quiet down…Mejiro-sama needs a relaxing atmosphere to concentrate on her latest volume.”

“Hai! Hai!” You saluted as you scurried past her into the foyer of the apartment complex. “I won’t let you down, Ms. Manager!”


	3. Nunnery

 

The interior of Amamizukan was nothing short of bewitching to you. One might even suggest that its elegant design motif, a flawless blend of modern furniture and traditional simplicity, had surpassed the beauty of even the building’s palace-like exterior in your eyes. Just as various Wikipedia articles and moderately-researched fan fiction references had once assured you, Amamizukan was a “weaboo wonderland” of sorts, rich with rice paper walls, tatami mats, and even an absolutely adorable little Chabudai table. Upon a guided inspection of the upstairs floor with the building manager, Chieko, you had discovered that this opulent, seven bedroom community even boasted a communal bath. You had practically swooned at the mere sight of the rusty, mammoth-sized sink in the hallway.  _What, were you in Love Hina now?_

Although you very well could have spent all day fawning over the foreign architecture, you scarcely had time to deposit your belongings in your new bedroom before you were whisked away by Chieko and four rather diversified females into the dining area. After all, it was eight o’clock and that, as you would soon learn, entailed the obligation of a weekly “Hot Pot Party” with your roomies.

There were so many new things for your eyes to behold that you could hardly decide how best to divide your attention. The tiny, aforementioned Chabudai table was fully occupied by the young women you would be sharing a residence with, and the tabletop was so jam-packed with bowls that overflowed with ingredients that ranged from the very familiar like whole eggs to ultimately unidentifiable like garland chrysanthemum. In the center of the table there appeared to be what looked to you rather like a camping stove that was topped with a bowl of steaming meat, vegetables, noodles, and broth. Your mouth watered at the very sizzle of the meat.  _When was the last time you’d eaten? Oh, that’s right. A bag of peanuts on the plane…_

The grumble of your stomach piqued the curiosity of the table’s occupants, who seemed to have been utterly petrified by your arrival beforehand, and you were alarmed when a rather athletic, lanky looking woman in a track suit turned to grin cheekily at you.

“Not even a foreigner can resist the coveted hot pot of Amamizukan!” She seemed to cackle with cheeks that remained withered even when accompanying a full laugh.

You were a little perturbed with being equipped with the moniker “foreigner” already, but you decided now would be as good a time as any to make introductions and replace “ **Gaijin** ” with “[Full name]” as soon as possible.

“ **KONICHIWA**!” You began, bowing lower than was probably necessary. “I’m [Last Name] [First Name]-chan! It’s a pleasure to meet you, everyone!”

Your eyes drank in the forms of your new roommates with great concentration as you addressed them. There was the lanky, athletic girl, Chieko, two mousy, bespectacled girls, and…a short guy with an afro? How had you overlooked  _that_?

“I didn’t realize boys would be living at Amamizukan…?” you questioned carefully as you sized up the short character you had never really noticed before. This presumed gentleman was clad in baggy pants and a plain, black and white striped sweater that was virtually unisex as far as you were concerned. The residents turned to stone before your very eyes, each of them muttering fearfully about the words that had just left your lips. One of the mousy girls was so shaken up, in fact, that she began babbling hysterically.

“Boy? THERE ARE NO BOYS HERE! …hahaha. Mejiro-sensei said the punishment was death, after all…” she mumbled, her complexion turning ghostly white.

The short guy, finally having realized the grounds of your insinuation and the weight of your eyes on him, slammed his chopsticks down on the table with a defiant growl. “I, Banba, am a girl.”

Heat rose to your cheeks in embarrassment at having mistaken the gender of one of your roommates and all paranoid chatter immediately ceased. You had a feeling that if you could see the eyes of this “Banba”, they would surely be piercing your soul.

In a respectable attempt to break the awkward silence that had just ensued at Banba’s declaration, Chieko cleared her throat and prepared to speak. “[Last Name]-san…”

You flinched in preparation for the vicious scolding you were sure to receive. Thank goodness you probably wouldn’t understand most of it. “...yes?”

“Perhaps the long journey has clouded your memory, but upon applying for both the position of Mejiro-sama’s apprentice and for the remaining room vacancy at Amamizukan, you should have clearly seen our motto on the forum.” Chieko explained. You were torn between sinking your head in shame and being awestruck by the fact that she had just pushed her glasses up coolly like an actual glasses character. You had only hoped that cool, anime glasses glare happened in real life like this…

“M-motto?” You repeated tentatively, shrinking away from the fearsome manager.

In what seemed to be eerily practiced unison, the girls recited slowly, “A life that has no use for  _men_.”

Your right eye began to twitch violently as you scrambled aback from the residents.  _A life that has no use for men?_  “Ehh? BUT MEJIRO-SAMA IS A  _YAOI_ AUTHOR!!”

As incredulous tears streamed down your face and all hopes of encountering some shoujo manga level romance with indiscriminant J-Pop hotties left you, you could not help but feel that a better motto for the Amamizukan way of life would have been more accurately translated to, “Welcome to the convent.”


End file.
